Goodnight, Siha
by virusq
Summary: Commander Jess Shepard cannot sleep. Bored with resource mining, she mills around the ship looking for a little competition and advice from the crew.  Femshep/Thane


"One ninety seven."

Normally, Shepard got her fair share of heart pounding excitement from missions. But the crew had been so focused on repairs and upgrades that Shepard was starting to hallucinate mining probes in her everyday routine.

"One ninety eight."

Since she was a child, Shepard had thrived on adrenaline. She worked hard, played hard, partied hard and saved sleeping for the dead.

"One ninety nine."

Except now she was dead and she suddenly couldn't sleep.

"Two ... hundred."

Shepard collapsed in a heap on the floor of her quarters. She stared at the ceiling, thin beads of sweat tracing down her face and neck, meditating to her heartbeat. She let her eyes close and her breathing steady. The low hum of the ship seeped into that part of her brain that comforted her.

The ship with the awkward engine timing, and the blinking lights, and the artificial intelligence that _watched you while you slept_...

She sighed.

It was impossible to burn off enough energy, these days. She wondered what sort of Cerberus tinkering was responsible for her new-found metabolism and weighed the pros and cons of the change.

Push-ups weren't going to cut it.

...

Shepard subconsciously rolled her wrists and neck in a warm-up routine as she entered the Armory. If there was anyone on board that could challenge Shepard's exercise regimen, it had to be Jacob.

"Hey," she announced, watching him carefully remove and inspect each firearm from the weapons cabinet. She hated to interrupt him, but she was pretty sure it was the eighth time he'd inventoried that same cache this week. Resource mining affected everyone, she surmised.

"Shepard!" He flashed her a kilowatt smile. "What brings you to the gunshow?"

She crossed her arms and eyed him up and down, estimating his physical limits. "You're pretty fit; what's your deadlift?"

He replaced a shotgun into its proper spot in the cabinet a little more slowly while he dissected the question in his mind. "Ma'am?"

"Relax, Jacob. I'm just looking for a little friendly competition in the weight room."

He closed the cabinet and stared at her. "We don't have a weight room."

"Exactly." She jabbed a finger at his chest. "Which is why I need to know which crew members I have to duct tape together for this exercise."

Jacob arched an eyebrow. "What's this really about, Shepard?"

Shepard sagged against the nearest bench. "I can't sleep. I feel stagnant waiting around for upgrades and repairs and I was hoping you'd be game to a physical challenge."

He nodded in understanding. "Crunches," he explained. "You may think the only thing I do around here is clean weapons, but..." He glanced around conspiratorially. "If there's ever time I can't quite fill, I do crunches. My current record is about 650."

Shepard smirked. "I bet I can beat that."

"I'd like to see you try."

The challenge was on. Shepard and Jacob dropped to the floor simultaneously, squeezing out crunches in a dead heat for several minutes. They egged each other on, neither one willing to admit defeat.

They didn't even pause for Mordin. "Armory Chief Taylor?"

The scientist stepped through the doorway and scanned the room at eye-level, expecting to see Jacob at his station, nearly tripping over Shepard. He peered over a clipboard at the spectacle.

"Contagious seizures? No. Increased breathing. Synchronous contortion. Human mating ritual? No. Similar to ..." Mordin squinted and tapped his chin with a gloved finger. "Yes. Challenge of territorial dominance! Do not understand. Who is the prospective mate?"

The thought of competing with Jacob over the affections of a crew-member flipped Shepard over the edge. Whether it was her level of exhaustion or the mental image of Thane posing as a helpless damsel, Shepard stopped her crunch mid-contraction and fell to the floor laughing. Jacob followed suit.

Jacob found his composure first. "No mates, Mordin. This is a friendly exercise. We're testing our limits."

Mordin blinked. "Why?"

"I can't sleep," Shepard explained. "I was hoping I could reach a point of exhaustion that would force me to relax."

"Interesting. However, incorrect," Mordin lectured, "Exertion and competition are considered stimulus to human adrenal system. Actuates circulatory system. Fuels cardiovascular system. Scenario appears somewhat counter-productive."

"Well, it does _now_." Shepard sighed. "What's your suggestion?"

"Was under the impression that human females employed warm baths and aromatherapy to assist in relaxation."

"A bubble bath?" Shepard gaped. Jacob suppressed a chuckle.

Mordin's posture stiffened defensively. "Suggestion has scientific merit. Human muscular system responds positively to moderate heat and submerged isolation, as well as pleasant olfactory stimulus."

Jacob shrugged. "He has a point."

Shepard shot Jacob a warning glance. "Do I look like the kind of person that invests in smelly candles?"

"No!" Jacob waved his hands in the air, deflecting invisible death rays. "But, neither Miranda nor Kasumi smell like military grade soap, if you know what I mean. Can it really hurt to investigate the ladies' shower?"

"I can't believe I'm talking about this with you." She avoided eye contact as he stood up.

"Come on, Shepard." He helped her up off the floor. "For science!"

...

The shower was as warm and as scented as predicted, but Shepard could not bring herself to trust her ragtag crew enough to stick around and enjoy it. Plus, she wasn't quite sure how intimidating she would feel while smelling like cherry blossoms.

Shepard ruffled the water out of her short hair with a towel as the door swished open to the Medical Bay.

"Dr. Chakwas, I have a – _oh God!_" Shepard covered her eyes with the towel and turned away from the scene. She wasn't sure what she'd walked into, but the last thing she ever wanted to see were Joker's pasty legs up over the doctor's shoulders.

"Ah, _jeeze_," Joker groaned. "You said you locked the door."

"It's a medical bay, Jeff." Chakwas chided, not sounding bothered in the least. "I'm morally obliged to keep the doors open."

"Can you hurry up with that last shot? I want to be out of here before the rest of the crew starts lining up for the Moreau Peepshow."

"I'm sure Shepard is entirely disinterested in capitalizing on your physical therapy, Jeff."

"It's not Shepard I'm worried abo—ow! Shit, that shit _stings_!"

Somewhat less embarrassed, Shepard ventured a peek back at the scene as Joker rearranged his braces and clothes and Chakwas annotated slides on her omnitool.

Chakwas examined orange hologram of Jeff's skeletal structure. "How may I help you, Shepard?"

"I was uh..." Shepard was surprised at how distracting it was to see the pilot up and hobbling around. He brushed past her, avoiding eye contact as he scurried back to the cockpit. "I was wondering if you had anything that could help me get some sleep."

Chakwas tapped a few keys on her omnitool and motioned for Shepard to come have a seat. "Trouble sleeping, Shepard?"

Shepard hesitated before complying; she'd never look at that gurney the same way again. "I think Cerberus did something to my head."

"I guarantee they did nothing to your head," Chakwas assured her while checking her vital signs for any abnormalities. "Physically anyway. I reviewed your files personally."

Shepard grumbled and kicked her feet around under the gurney like a distraught child. The doctor gracefully perched herself next to Shepard and placed a comforting hand on top of hers. "I've seen this before, you know. With all the excitement of racing off into the unknown to battle monsters from childhood legends, it's easy to ignore it. I understand."

Shepard's eyes lit up hopefully. "What is it?"

"You've forgotten how to relax."

Shepard frowned slightly, buckling the faint scars that still brushed her cheek. Instinct told her that the answer was ridiculous, that it was impossible to forget how to relax, but she couldn't justify an argument against the diagnosis.

Chakwas interpreted Shepard's silence as a confession. "I know it sounds silly, Shepard, but when was the last time you sat down with a hot cup of tea and read a book? Randomly called a friend? Went on a date? Even heroes have to have a little downtime." She gestured out the med bay window, where Garrus darted in and out of the dark kitchen to scavenge for dextro-safe snacks.

Shepard laughed. Downtime: what a concept. "Thanks, doc."

Chakwas folded her hands in her lap and watched her leave. "Any time, Commander."

...

"Thane?"

The door to Life Support always opened obediently, but Shepard was careful not to disturb the drell assassin. As she closed the distance from the doorway to her favorite chair, the faint lighting revealed Thane to be meditating comfortably on his cot, legs crossed onto his lap and eyes closed. "Yes, Shepard?"

She hesitated. "Am I interrupting?"

"Never." He smiled, eyelids drifting open. He patted the open space to his right, inviting her to join him. "What is bothering you, Siha?"

She accepted a seat next to him, pulling a leg up under her to adjust for the slight angle in the cushion. "I can't sleep. I've tried everything. Doctor Chakwas says I've forgotten how to relax."

"I see."

"You always seem so peaceful. How do you do it, Thane?"

"I meditate. Pray." He paused, lost in thought. "Remember."

In the warm stillness of the room, it was easy to drift away. Shepard followed Thane's voice as it reverberated through her mind, but was lost in a haze of shattered Prothean images and last words. She shuddered. "I don't ... want to remember."

"Listen," he whispered, snaking an arm across her lower back and pulling her in closer. Shepard willingly leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. The rise and fall of his rhythmic breathing was hypnotic. Her eyes drifted shut once more. "Waves crash. The sand warms your feet. The sun kisses your skin. You are in the arms of Arashu."

Sliding into unconsciousness, Shepard imagines the both of them on a beach, enjoying the sunset. There is no war, no husks, no reapers. Only the two of them and ... Urz, chasing a piece of driftwood the tide keeps washing away.

Her breathing slows and she sighs, softly.

Thane brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Siha."


End file.
